


And So The World Cries

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, F/F, Female Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Motherhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 06:16:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3926008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lagertha hears children cry when she sleeps – her children, those she could not bear, and Ivar the Boneless, Ragnar and Aslaug's child who is so full of pain. She isn't the only one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And So The World Cries

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during season three.

 

 

 

Lagertha remembered the cry of her children; the different ways a baby called out because of pain, hunger or lack of sleep. She or Ragnar would wake to tend to Björn or Gyda, wrapping themselves in furs and heavy wools to keep away Kattegat's bite as they comforted their children, quiet words often interspersed with cursing. Sometimes, Lagertha still woke now because she swore she could hear her children crying, only to remember with blade-sharp pain that her children were grown or gone and that some had never even been truly born at all.

 

In those aching moments, she often pressed fingers against flat empty skin. The gods had spoken. But still she dreamed of those children, crying. Sometimes there was blood.

 

*

 

It was known that Queen Aslaug had bore King Ragnar four boys, how the gods had blessed them. It was also known that the fourth should not have survived. Ivar the Boneless would never be a great warrior like his father nor would he know a day without pain.

 

When visiting Kattegat, Lagertha observed Ubbe, Hvikserk and Sigurd Snake-In-The-Eye playing with wooden swords. Sometimes Ragnar was with them, he would chase them and look proudly upon sons that would be strong and fierce like him. Lagertha saw Björn play with them too, wrestling with them and teaching them how to better hold their swords and swing them with greater purpose.

 

Lagertha's throat sometimes felt constricted when she watched Ragnar's sons, the ones she had been unable to bear him. But the gods had provided and so Ragnar's blood would flow onwards, the blood of Odin, across the sea and many kinds of earth. It was how it should be, even if Lagertha's blood was as water now, concentrated only in Björn who acted more as his father each day.

 

Lagertha rarely saw Ivar but she was very aware of him. It wasn't just his persistent cries, it was how strained Ragnar's gaze was and how tense he held himself when he heard his son's cries, the child needing comfort that Ragnar could not seem to provide. Aslaug appeared as worn as her husband, no longer always the sure powerful woman that Lagertha had first met. When Lagertha did catch sight of Ivar, she also saw the helplessness tucked away in Aslaug's eyes as the queen cradled her baby, pacing the longhouse, trying to help him find peace. Lagertha saw how the king looked at his queen and how he now so often turned away.

 

*

 

In Kattegat, Lagertha slept wherever there was a bed of straw. She was not jarl there or married to the king; she was an ally and friend and she would not make demands. She often slept near Siggy, who did not slept next to Rollo now. Rollo's gaze on Siggy was as distant as Ragnar's was on Aslaug. Siggy slept in a room close to Aslaug's, she had become the children's guardian. She had become a blessing.

 

Lagertha admired Siggy's strength. Siggy was both mother and widow, she had watched too many pyres burn. But still she watched over Aslaug's children and kept her pain away from them. Only when she looked at Rollo was the depth of her remoteness clear. Lagertha hugged her and murmured prayers to Frigg. Neither Lagertha or Siggy spoke of what was so empty inside of them.

 

Siggy often rose in the night when Ivar began crying. She could not comfort him but carried worry for Aslaug and so always wanted tried. Lagertha watched Siggy's bare feet leave and return, the worry never leaving her. One night, when Siggy had spent many hours with Rollo and had returned with a tight-drawn mouth and pain cloaking her like Freya's feathers, Ivar cried and Lagertha rose from her bed.

 

At Siggy's stirring, Lagertha touched her shoulder and walked in her place. There was a fire burning to guide her footsteps and there was Aslaug stooped over a cradle. Ragnar was not lying in their bed. Lagertha's throat constricted once more, but not for any children, alive or otherwise.

 

She watched as Aslaug spoke quietly to her son, not yet scooping him up. Aslaug told her son familiar stories, her tone begging him to be soothed, to be quiet. Ivar never seemed to listen, his eyes shining, his mouth raw. Lagertha watched him, the empty space inside of her twisting. She stepped out of the shadows.

 

Aslaug turned her head and did not look entirely surprised, though confusion hooded her eyes. She could see what lay ahead and speak prophecy but not everything was always clear to her. What was clear to Lagertha was the weight draped around Aslaug, a weight that Lagertha would never again hold as her own. She stooped over the cradle and gazed at the unhappy child in so much pain.

 

Aslaug shifted to the right, leaving Lagertha with a clear path forward. It was a generous gesture, what had Lagertha done to deserve it? But she stepped forward. Ivar was in so much pain, pain that had bled into his parents and had rotted what lay between them. Ivar could have been suffering a fever or a curse from the gods because of Ragnar's past actions. He had forsaken his first wife, he was now punishing his second. Something different began twisting inside of Lagertha. A warrior bled and conquered, a mother was never still, her arms never empty. It was a different battle.

 

“May I?”

 

It was a question she'd asked before and Aslaug's answer now was the same as then. She lifted the crying, wet-eyed Ivar from his cradle and placed him in Lagetha's arms. Lagertha gazed down at the baby; when she had held Sigurd she had seen Ragnar in his face, even beyond the snake image held in his eye. Ivar was different though and perhaps Ragnar knew it. According to Siggy, Ivar was a child that only Aslaug had wanted to survive.

 

Lagertha sat down on the edge of the bed, Aslaug sat on the floor, close to Lagertha's feet, her expression tired and hollow. She did not seem to care that Lagertha could see that, her poise all worn away. Aslaug had always been brazen – she had first arrived in Kattegat heavily pregnant, knowing that Ragnar already had a wife and son. And she never spoke against Lagertha's frequent presence in Kattegat, she never asked Ragnar to favour his sons by her over Björn. Aslaug was not who Lagertha had first assumed her to be, Lagertha wondered if the same held true for Aslaug when she now looked at Lagertha.

 

Ivar was still crying.

 

Lagertha rocked him firmly, thinking of Gyda when she had been fevered as a baby, how long she had cried for, how Björn had complained. Aslaug was bowing her head forward, her long hair covering all sight of her expression. There was that different twist inside of Lagertha again. One of her hands touched the edge of Aslaug's hair, Aslaug did not flinch away.

 

“I have dreams.”

 

“I know.”

 

Aslaug's gaze glimmered up through her veil of hair and her hand gripped Lagertha's leg firmly and with purpose. Lagertha's throat moved. She did not ask where Ragnar was. What did it matter? He was not here. This was a battle that Aslaug so often fought alone.

 

“He will not stop,” Aslaug stated, her voice splintering.

 

Lagertha got to her feet. She did not pace, she had seen how it had not helped before and she was not Ivar's mother. Her fingers touched flat skin again before she placed the baby into his cradle. Then she walked back towards the bed, where Aslaug was still crouched, bowed in rigid silent despair.

 

Lagertha lay down on the bed. It was not hers anymore and she could feel the pain of memories but she pushed them aside. Her gaze caught Aslaug's and after a moment, the princess moved and lay down beside her. They did not speak, what would be the use? Ivar was filling the night with his pain anyway, none but the gods could soothe him but Aslaug would still try. It was a battle that she clung to, she was still his mother.

 

Aslaug touched Lagertha's stomach, just for a moment, then pulled away. Her hair spilled over Lagertha's shoulder, it was their only contact now. It would be enough. Lagertha knew where Ragnar kept his blades, she would keep Aslaug and her son safe if danger struck. She lay beside Ragnar's wife who carried the great pain of a child that lived, while Lagertha was consumed by those that had not even lived a day, by those that never would.

 

Aslaug's voice was quiet and sure but audible over Ivar's pain, “You will dream.”

 

She said it like a comfort though and that night Lagertha's dreams were only touched by Ivar's cries, nothing else penetrated. She truly rested as she slept. There was no blood, it was close to a relief.

 

When Lagertha woke, Ivar was silent and Aslaug was talking to two of her handmaidens, one swiftly left and returned with some of Lagertha's clothing.

 

“For your comfort,” Aslaug told her.

 

She looked calmer, more composed, than she had before. Her smiles were careful but there was gratitude clear when she returned to where Lagertha lay. Lagertha sat up, looking over at Ivar, quiet for now, still bright-eyed, still unsettled. Lagertha's throat constricted but she turned to hold Aslaug's gaze, to show equal gratitude and whatever else was moving within her.

 

Aslaug offered a hand towards Lagertha's hair, “Please, I would like to.”

 

Lagertha arched an eyebrow but inclined her head. Aslaug braided some of Lagertha's hair and twisted parts of it back. Surely Aslaug had always had handmaidens for such things but her hands were skilful and when Lagertha reached up, she could feel the pleasing beauty of Aslaug's work. She looked at Aslaug for only a moment, then offered her own hands. Aslaug smiled and shifted to offer her hair.

 

When they both entered the longhouse for the morning meal, Aslaug wore several braids in her hair, tied back simply. Ubbe, Hvikserk and Sigurd rushed to their mother, Lagertha smiled at them and their greetings, at the familiarity of their faces. She ached but smiled too. These children shouldn't carry the weight braced by their parents. Aslaug touched Lagertha's back briefly and she sat down beside Siggy.

 

Siggy looked at Lagertha questioningly but seemed settled by what she saw as Lagertha chose a seat close by. Lagertha knew only that she had been gifted sleep, amongst pain and the most unexpected company. She could see Rollo looking at Siggy and then away again, as though the nights she had spent with King Horik had done anything but benefit Kattegat.

 

Perhaps Ragnar was looking at Lagertha but she looked at Björn and Thorunn, her son lived and was happy and strong, thanks to Aslaug Thoruun was a free woman. Sigurd chatted to Siggy and Ubbe wanted to clamber upon onto his mother, Hvikserk standing close by. These were the beginnings of yet new battles and Lagertha felt the night's strength in her, she was equal to it.

 

There was fish and bread, she filled a plate and placed it in front of Aslaug. Hvikserk grasped a handful of Lagertha's clothing. She could hear a child's cry but she did not think it was Ivar, Aslaug brushed fingers against her arm, perhaps the future was not all she saw.

 

Lagertha's warriors mingled with Ragnar's, children she had not given her husband stayed close to her. The world was not quiet. Lagertha ate and talked to Aslaug's children, her pain unmoving, her determination unwavering. She heard cries and continued, as jarl, as friend to Kattegat, as a mother. Her hand still touched her own barren skin.

 

At night, she returned to Aslaug's room.

 

_-the end_


End file.
